


A Little Bit of Something

by romanticalgirl



Series: I Must Be Lonely [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late night adventures and easy admissions</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Bit of Something

Ian looks at the building in front of him. It’s garish as fuck, lit up with neon signs, animated and graphic. Even worse is that he stands out like a sore thumb in the middle of a sea of too much testosterone. He knows that’s not entirely true. He fits in physically, has the right attitude. South side isn’t something that goes away. But he feels like he’s in a completely different world that, even though it’s familiar from a life of Frank and Lip and Fiona’s revolving boyfriends, still feels like uncharted, dangerous waters.

“ID.”

Ian hands it over, biting back his smile as Mickey shines the flashlight on it then looks up. “Never took you for a breast man, Gallagher.”

Ian hands Mickey the cover charge. “Oh, yeah. Totally here for the T&A.”

He moves past Mickey into the club, though that might be a generous description. There’s a long black platform with one pole dead center and another on each side. The woman on stage is dancing to something Ian can’t hear over the jukebox blaring out country music. He leans back and turns his head to whisper in Mickey’s ear. 

“You’ve had your shots, right?”

“Don’t worry.” Mickey’s smile glints in the neon. “Rule of the club is look, don’t touch.”

“You don’t do lap dances? Rooms in the back? What are you guys doing here? Trying to _not_ make money?”

“You do those things at your work?” Mickey’s eyebrows practically disappear into his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Personal attention.”

“Personal attention tends to make guys who are drunk off their asses think they’ve got rights they don’t. And my job has enough of that, so they look. They don’t touch.” He narrows his eyes at Ian. “Rooms in the back, really? Isn’t that, like...illegal?”

Ian sits on Mickey’s stool, watching the most bored woman he’s ever seen strip down to a pair of neon green tassels and a neon green dye job. “Wow. She is completely naked.”

Mickey glances over his shoulder and shrugs. “Perks of my job.”

“Perks? Really?”

“Well. You know...”

“Are you bisexual?” Ian’s brow furrows. He hadn’t actually considered that at all, but he doesn’t really know all that much about Mickey beyond their personal little bubble.

“Does it matter?”

“No. I mean...I don’t...”

Mickey shakes his head and grins. “Relax, Gallagher. I’m gay. Not that it should matter since we’re banging.”

“Right.” Ian frowns. “Are you banging other people?”

“Seriously?” Mickey shoves Ian off the stool, grabbing his arm at the last minute so he doesn’t fall on his ass. “Like you give me time to fuck anyone else.”

“You might.” Ian ducks his head so Mickey can’t see his eyes. He feels stupid.

“Ian.” Mickey hooks a finger under Ian’s chin and makes him look at him. He shakes his head. “100% gay. 100% not banging anyone else.”

Ian’s quiet for a few minutes as he settles back on Mickey’s stool. “So why do you work here?”

“Pay’s good. No distractions. I couldn’t work at a place like you. I wouldn’t get any work done.”

“Oh?” Ian cocks an eyebrow and moves closer, smiling at Mickey. Mickey shakes his head. “Why’s that?”

“Because you and your booty shorts are fucking distracting.” Mickey moves over to the entrance as two guys come in the door. Ian glances at Mickey’s ass and sighs.

“If we were at my club, I could give you a lap dance.”

“Oh, I see.” Mickey waves the guys in after taking their cover. “I have to start paying for it?”

Ian laughs. “Pretty sure it’s normally you dancing on _my_ lap.”

“So that’s the only way that’s free, huh?” Mickey grins and leans against the wall by the stool. Ian can feel the heat of Mickey’s body, the light touch of his fingers as they graze Ian’s t-shirt. “So why exactly are you here? I’m pretty confident that you’re not interested in the show.”

Ian shrugs, suddenly embarrassed. “Night off.”

“And so you came by to pick up some new, awesome dance moves?” Mickey gives Ian a sly smile. “Trust me, you’ve got the whole thrusting thing down. No help needed.”

Ian looks away, not willing to meet Mickey’s eyes. “I just hadn’t seen you since the dinner. I thought I’d check in.”

“And make sure they didn’t scare me off, huh?” Mickey nods, and even though his voice is teasing, Ian can tell he’s not making fun of him. “Work’s been crazy. There was a problem with the plumbing at the house we’re working on. It flooded, shorted out the electrical system, ruined the floor and lower cabinets in the kitchen. So we’ve had to go back to square one. I’ve been coming here straight from there.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me.” Ian knows he doesn’t sound convincing at all “Shit. I probably sound like some sort of jealous asshole.”

“A little bit.” Mickey straightens up and leans closer, breath hot in Ian’s ear. “Go have a drink or two. I’ll be done here in a couple of hours. I’ll cut out a little early and we’ll go home.”

Ian can’t help it when the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Put the drinks on my tab.”

“You want me to bring you something? Beer? Soda? I think I’d stay away from anything in glasses around here.”

“Beer’s good.”

Ian walks away, and he can tell Mickey’s watching his ass, so he does his best to make sure it’s a good show. When he reaches the bar and glances back, Mickey’s just turning away, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, though it doesn’t do anything to hide his smile.

Ian glances at the stage, at the crowd. The neon green girl is gone, and now there’s a woman in a yellow rain coat, hat, and boots dancing around and failing to look anything remotely like sexy. Not that Ian’s the best judge. Most of the guys look like they’re more interested in their drinks than in the show. He heads back toward the door and hands Mickey his beer. He sits on Mickey’s stool and takes a sip of his own. “How many of these guys do you think are in denial?”

Mickey looks at Ian and then scans the crowd. “Hard to say. I’m not super great about figuring that kind of thing out.”

“Well, have you noticed any of them watching you instead of the stage?”

“Not that I’ve ever noticed. Or looked for. I’m usually busy watching to make sure none of them are doing something they’re not supposed to.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to watch.”

“To see if guys are watching me? I think you’re not the best person to observe that sort of thing, since anyone looking this way is going to be staring at _you_ , Mr. Adonis.”

“Adonis, huh?” Ian kicks Mickey’s ankle. “I like that.”

“Oh, please. Like you don’t know what you look like. How people look at you.”

Ian reaches out and traces a finger over Mickey’s wrist. “I like how you look at me.” 

“Christ, you are corny as fuck.” Mickey huffs a laugh. “Ten bucks you get hit on tonight.”

“By someone other than you?”

“Fuck off. I’m not going to hit on you.” Mickey jabs Ian in the side. “You’re a sure thing.”

“Oh, I am?” Ian challenges. “That sounds like an excellent way to not get laid.”

“You came to a fucking titty bar to see me. I’m _so_ getting laid.”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and tugs him closer. “Ten bucks, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mickey’s breath is hot against Ian’s ear. Ian shivers, his lips parting. “Twenty bucks if it’s a chick.”

“Get your wallet ready. You’re going to owe me.”

**

Mickey’s kind of uncomfortable with Ian at the club. Not because of Ian so much as the fact that Mickey feels like he’s disappointing him. It’s ridiculous, since Ian’s known since the beginning that this is where Mickey works. Of course, Ian, being Ian, doesn’t look uncomfortable at all. Mickey’s beginning to realize that, even if Ian _is_ uncomfortable, he’s not going to show it. Whether that’s from his family or the fact that he dances in front of men all night, Mickey’s not sure.

About ten, Mickey has to wade into a fight when one of the assholes climbs onto the stage and grabs the girl, which pisses off the rest of the audience. Or, equally possible, they’re all drunk enough to want a fight.

Mickey warns Ian to stay put then crosses the room, barging into the middle of things. His first priority is the girl, so he leaps up on the stage. She’s pretty much punched the shit out of the guy who grabbed her, and she kicks him in the balls as Mickey gets there, and he goes down. Mickey shoots past her and takes down the asshole coming toward her from behind. “Get off the fucking stage, Claire.”

After she’s clear and Mickey hears the lock click on the backstage door, he plows into the fray. The other bouncer as well as the bartender are on the floor already, and it doesn’t take long before Mickey’s in the middle of things. They eventually clear the club, and the staff stands around in the middle of the mess. Mickey’s got a black eye, a cut on his right cheek, and enough pain when he breathes that he knows his ribs are at least bruised. He wipes the blood off his cheek as it trickles down his face toward his jaw.

Ian’s still on the stool by the door when Mickey glances in his direction, but there’s a bruise blooming on Ian’s jaw and his face is smeared red from his bloody nose. That pisses Mickey off, but not as much as the two girls cooing over Ian. Mickey knows it’s stupid to be upset or even annoyed, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is, or the fact that he’s annoyed that he’s annoyed that he even gives a shit. He’s not surprised really, because if he’s honest with himself – which he usually tries his damnedest not to be – he’s given a shit about Ian for a lot longer than he wants to think about.

He walks over and kicks Ian’s foot. “That’s forty bucks, asshole.”

“They’re not hitting on me, are you ladies.”

“Of course they’re fucking hitting on you.”

Ian looks at the girls and shrugs when he sees the look on their faces. “Sorry, ladies.”

“Oh.” Angie traces a finger down Ian’s arm and Mickey’s torn between rolling his eyes and ripping her arm off. “You have a girlfriend?”

“That’s it.” Mickey grabs a fistful of Ian’s shirt and hauls him forward. He growls low in a mixture of irritation, frustration, and possessiveness. He closes his eyes as he fits his mouth to Ian’s, the slide of their tongues, the mess of the kiss tastes like hot copper. Ian moans low and thick, kissing back, tongue tracing against the roof of Mickey’s mouth. After what seems like the shortest forever possible, Mickey pulls back breathless and licks his lips. He doesn’t look away from Ian, just smiles. “Boyfriend.”

Ian smiles as well, nodding. “Boyfriend.”

Mickey licks his lips again, tasting Ian’s blood mixed with his own. “Gonna help clean up and then we’ll get out of here.”

Ian sits back on the stool, coughs and winces. “Fuck.”

“Told you to stay out of it.”

“I grew up on the south side.” He starts to shrug and then stops. “I don’t know how to stay out of a fight.”

“Well, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Wait.” Angie frowns. “So you’re _both_ gay? Is that why you never hit on me, Mick?”

Mickey stares at her for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Uh, yeah. Because you’re not a dude. Yeah.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” 

Mickey presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose. His eyebrows are still raised in disbelief. “Be right back. Try not to get fucking engaged or something in the meantime, okay?”

Ian grins that stupid grin at him and Mickey fights his own smile. “I’ll do my best.”

“Yeah. You do that.” Mickey walks over to the bar and waits until the manager looks his way. Mickey does his best to look beat to shit, which isn’t that hard.

“Yeah, yeah. Go. Just no hospitals and no L&I claims.”

Mickey stares at him. “Really? I’m a fucking _bouncer_. One part of my job description is literally to have people try to beat the shit out of me.”

“Just covering my ass, Milkovich.”

“Have fun with clean up. See you tomorrow.” Mickey waves as he walks back to Ian. “Let’s go.”

Ian slides off the stool and follows Mickey to the back. Mickey grabs his jacket and starts to put it on, but Ian grabs it and tugs him in close. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“You got a problem with that?”

Ian shakes his head. “No. No problem.” He’s got a goofy smile on his face and Mickey just rolls his eyes. 

“Can we go then? You’re a fucking mess.”

“You should look in the mirror. You’re not winning any beauty contests.”

“Fuck off, I’m gorgeous.” Mickey smirks. “Your place or mine?”

“Do you have food or beer?”

Mickey shrugs. “Nope.”

“Mine.”

**

Ian keeps stealing glances at Mickey as they make their way home. He’s pretty sure Mickey’s going to punch him if he keeps it up, because he knows he’s not even close to subtle. The back of his hand brushes Mickey’s thigh occasionally as the train jostles them, and Mickey’s mouth is quirked in a knowing smile.

Mickey leans in so Ian can hear him. “You know, I haven’t been home this early in over a week. Maybe I should just crash.”

“Or you could come to my place and I could suck you off.”

“Not sure my ribs can handle any kind of orgasms.”

“Pussy.”

Mickey shoves Ian lightly. Ian grabs his wrist so he stays on his feet and lets Mickey reel him back in. Ian can’t seem to keep the smile off his face. Mickey just rolls his eyes. It’s getting to be far too familiar a gesture. “Besides your nose is fucked up. I don’t mind you gagging for it, but snorting around my dick is _not_ hot.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Mickey bites his lower lip as he thinks. It takes serious restraint for Ian not to kiss him. Not to bite it for him. “Could blow you.”

“Well, I’m always happy to have my dick sucked.”

“Yeah. Name a dude that _isn’t_.”

“Hey now. I _offered_.”

Mickey laughs and shifts slightly closer. “Eat you out. Finger you.”

Ian turns his head and they’re close. Closer than Mickey is comfortable in a crowded train if the hitch in his breath and the subtle shift in his body language is any indication, so Ian takes a step back. He pitches his voice lower to compensate, to keep the words between them. “Ride you. Carefully. Slowly.”

“Yeah?” Mikey’s breath catches then. He grins at Ian and nods. “All of the above?”

“I would not be opposed.”

The train stops at their station and they start the short walk home. They walk side by side and Mickey bumps his shoulder against Ian’s. Ian laughs as Mickey winces. “Okay, maybe we can’t do anything, since making you come is going to make me horny as fuck, and it hurts to breathe much less have sex.”

Ian takes a chance and grabs Mickey’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We don’t have to have sex.”

Mickey nods. “I know.”

“Which is weird.” Ian opens the door to their building with his free hand and shakes his head as he looks back at Mickey. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone that I was...just as happy to not have sex with.”

“Sex is still pretty awesome though.”

“Oh, yeah. We do that well.” Ian pushes the button for the elevator, rubbing his thumb over Mickey’s knuckles. “So...how do we work this whole boyfriend thing?”

“I wasn’t aware we had to do anything different. We hang out, we bang, we don’t do other people.” Mickey shrugs as the elevator hits their floor. “I mean, isn’t that how it works? I haven’t actually had a boyfriend before. I mean, I’ve gone out with guys more than once, but that was mostly just sex.”

“All of my boyfriends have been married. Or just sex.”

“Married?” Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You’re a little home wrecker, huh?” Mickey says it teasingly, but it still stings a little.

“The homes were already pretty ruined.” 

“Hey.” Mickey stops and tugs on Ian’s hand so he does too. “Past is the past. The only thing about those guys that matters is that you had a lot of sex practice and I get to reap the benefits.” 

Ian laughs. “Come on, asshole. I need a beer.”

Mickey follows him and Ian unlocks his door, heading straight for the kitchen. He digs out two beers and wets a couple of paper towels. Mickey’s sitting on one of the chairs, face wrinkled with a frown, his head back. 

“Hurts?”

“Yeah.”

Ian pulls the other chair up next to him and presses the paper towel to the cut on the side of Mickey’s face. “Bottle?”

“Something. Ow.”

“Sorry.” Ian dabs at it, though it’s messier than it is worrying. He’s careful around Mickey’s eye, tracing the edge of the darkening bruise. “You’re going to look like something out of a gangster movie.”

“I’ll get my three-piece suit out of the cleaners.” He winces again and opens one eye to look at Ian. “You’re a mess yourself.”

“I’ll get more paper towels and you can clean me up. Unless you like me bloody.”

Mickey leans in and kisses Ian softly. “Probably a bad idea. Should get tested and all that shit.”

“Yeah.” Ian licks his lips, chasing the taste of the kiss. “Be right back.”

Ian grabs more damp towels as well as aspirin and brings them into the living room. He sits next to Mickey who takes four of the pills and downs them with his beer before turning toward Ian. His fingers are light as they brush of Ian’s skin, and Ian closes his eyes, lips parted as Mickey cleans him up. “Shirt’s ruined.”

Ian reaches back and grabs the collar, tugging it off. “Better?”

Mickey nods. “Yeah.” He traces the cooling paper towel down Ian’s neck, washing away the dried blood there. Ian closes his eyes and tilts his head, jumping slightly when the heat of Mickey’s mouth touches his skin instead. 

“Mmm.” Ian nods slightly, keeping his throat bared for Mickey’s mouth. Mickey’s tongue traces the slight rasp of Ian’s stubble and Ian can’t help shivering. He can’t move much closer, but he tries, arching his back so that Mickey has access to his shoulder, his collarbone. “We could go lie down. More comfortable than the chairs.” Mickey licks the hollow of Ian’s throat and then pulls back. His lips are wet and his eyes are dark, and Ian leans in and kisses him softly, sucking on Mickey’s lower lip. “Hmm?”

“Yeah.” Mickey pulls away, hissing when he twists, wrapping his arm himself. “Ow.”

Ian gets to his feet and puts his arm around Mickey, tugging him close enough to lean against him. Mickey fits against him easily and Ian starts toward the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the light, just looks at Mickey through the ambient glow from outside the apartment. He traces Mickey’s jaw and then leans in, kissing him softly, pulling back before Mickey can deepen it. 

“Can you lift your arms?” 

Mickey bites back a sound as he lifts them, and Ian grabs the hem of the shirt at Mickey’s hips and carefully guides it up and off of him. Ian traces a finger down Mickey’s sternum and then across the darkness that hints at the bruises Mickey’s going to be covered with in the morning. He meets Mickey’s eyes, holding them as Ian sinks down onto his knees.

He undoes Mickey’s belt and his fly, fingers easing under the denim to slide them down. Mickey shifts his stance to kick his shoes off and out of the way so Ian can get Mickey out of them completely. He runs his hands up the back of Mickey’s legs, feeling the soft hair on his calves, the back of his thighs. He cups Mickey’s ass and leans in, breathing against Mickey’s dick before kissing it through the boxers. 

There’s a low rumble in Mickey’s chest – not quite a growl, but something close enough to it to send a shiver down Ian’s spine. He leans back, resting his ass on his heels as he carefully guides the boxers over Mickey’s dick before tugging them down. Mickey steps out of his clothes, completely naked, and Ian rests his hands on Mickey’s hips for balance as he leans in and sucks a hickey at the top of Mickey’s thigh. “You got something in mind here?”

Ian grins. “All of the above?”

Mickey strokes his fingers through Ian’s hair. Ian closes his eyes, just feeling Mickey’s touch. “Pretty sure you’re going to need to be naked more than I am for all that.”

Ian nuzzles Mickey’s dick, feeling it harden further against his cheek. “Getting there.”

“Pretty damn slowly,” Mickey’s voice is rough. “Feeling a little lonely here.”

“I’m rubbing your dick with my face and you’re feeling lonely?” Ian gets to his feet, his eyebrow raised. “Really?”

“Take your damn pants off, Gallagher.”

Ian laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on.”

“You’re the one that took it off me, asshole.”

“Oh yeah.” Ian undoes his pants. “One of my better ideas.”

**

Mickey licks his lips as Ian finishes stripping. He wasn’t kidding about the Adonis comparison. Ian’s body is defined and cut and fucking beautiful. His dick is hard when he gets his pants and boxers off, and Mickey can’t help running his eyes and his fingers over it.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says reverently, and a blush touches Ian’s cheeks. It’s kind of refreshing that Ian doesn’t seem to really think he is what he is. Mickey knows Ian knows – he couldn’t do what he does if he didn’t know it, at least objectively - but he never fails to seem surprised by Mickey’s admiration. “Get the fuck on the bed. Hands and knees.”

Ian grins and crawls on the bed. Mickey follows him, kneeling between Ian’s legs. He rubs Ian’s ass, parting the cheeks with his thumbs. He nuzzles the curve of flesh and then bites it. Ian gasps and then groans when Mickey changes his teeth for the heat of his mouth, sucking the tender skin. Mickey licks the red spot and Ian makes another low noise. Mickey bites again, sharp and quick, and then before Ian can react, swipes his tongue over Ian’s hole. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take his time. His tongue slides down to Ian’s balls then back up over the perineum.

He presses his tongue firmly to Ian’s skin as he traces the tight muscle of Ian’s ass, alternating between soft, teasing flicks and hard swipes with the flat of his tongue, getting Ian slick with spit. Ian’s breath keeps catching, soft little gasps that fall past his lips. Mickey presses his knees to Ian’s to push his legs farther apart. Digging his fingers in, Mickey spreads Ian’s ass cheeks more, opening him up for his mouth.

He focuses on the opening, pushing against it with his tongue, firm and pointed. Ian’s whole body jerks when Mickey penetrates him. He buries his tongue inside Ian, licking, caressing with the tip, flattening and spreading it. He sucks as he licks, suction pulling at Ian’s skin, tugging moans from deep in Ian’s chest.

Ian arches his back, pushing against Mickey’s mouth. He’s cursing amidst the moans, begging for more. Mickey huffs a breath through his nose and Ian fists his hands in the sheets, his body clenching around Mickey’s tongue. Mickey smooths his hand over the curve of Ian’s ass and squeezes, thumbs grazing the bruises coming up on Ian’s skin. He eases his tongue free but keeps lapping at Ian’s hole, wet and slick from his mouth. Mickey pushes his tongue back in, bracketing it with two of his fingers. Ian shudders and Mickey spreads his fingers to open Ian up even more. 

“Fuck. Fuck. F-fuck, Mickey. Oh, fuck.” It’s a hoarse litany, a chant, an incantation Ian keeps repeating. Mickey works another finger in and slips his tongue out, moving his mouth to Ian’s ass, biting and sucking the pale skin, tracing freckles with his tongue.

“So fucking tight. Jesus.” Mickey’s voice is rough, matching the scrape of his teeth on Ian’s ass. “Close around my tongue and fingers, fucking caught inside you.”

“Y-yes,” Ian gasps and nods. “Yes, M-mick. Please, yes.”

Mickey slides a fourth finger in and Ian whines low in his throat. Mickey keeps spreading his fingers apart then curving them, fingertips pressing against sensitive flesh. Ian chokes out a cry when Mickey’s fingers hit him just right, keeping it there until it builds and Ian falls apart, body jerking as he comes.

“Lube,” Mickey says gruffly and Ian fumbles for it, handing it back to Mickey. Mickey pours some in the palm of his hand, letting it drizzling through his fingers as they keep fucking into Ian. He closes the cap and dips the fingers of his free hand in the puddle of lube, tracing Ian’s hole before pushing two more fingers in.

Ian sucks in a sharp breath, and a host of aftershocks shake his whole body. His cock jerks, still leaking. “ _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod._ So much. Oh god.”

“Gonna fuck you,” Mickey growls. “God, need to be inside you.”

“Yes. Please. God, yes.”

Mickey frees his two fingers and pushes Ian forward with a hand in the small of his back. “Condom.”

Ian grabs the drawer, yanking it out and sending the contents skittering across the floor. He half-laughs, half-sobs. “Shit.”

Mickey pulls his fingers free and leans over. Ian whines when Mickey’s fingers leave him, even though it’s so he can pick a condom up off the floor. He gives the package to Ian, his own hands too slick to open it. Ian’s hands shake, but he manages to rip the condom open, passing it back to Mickey. Working it on quickly, Mickey lines himself up and pushes into Ian, sinking deep.

Ian goes down on his elbows. Mickey holds Ian’s hips and rocks slowly, not really pulling back so much as pushing deeper. Ian covers his head with his hands, fingers digging into his hair, raking furrows through the dark red. Mickey digs his fingers back into Ian’s hips, holding him tight as he starts thrusting. Sliding back until just the head of is dick is inside Ian, Mickey can feel the tight muscle pressed to the ridge. Ian tries to push back, but Mickey holds him still.

“’m fucking you, Gallagher.” Mickey doesn’t move, his own muscles trembling.

“No you’re not,” Ian’s rasps. “You’re not fucking _moving_.”

“You want me to move?”

“Ye-” Ian gasps, the word lost as Mickey slams into him, hips slapping against Ian’s ass. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow down. Ian’s not breathing so much as Mickey’s forcing every exhale out of him with a hard thrust.

The air is filled with heat and sweat and the smell of sex, of hot and heavy breaths as Mickey fucks into Ian, drilling him with a rough, steady pace. He can hear Ian trying to gasp, though the only thing that comes out is a breathless grunt. 

Mickey slides his hands further on Ian’s hips, letting his fingers dig into the flat plane of flesh in front of his hip bones. He’s getting close, Ian’s ass tightening around him. He can tell from the way Ian’s body is reacting that he’s at the point where pleasure and pain are all mixed up in his head. Where the stretch and push of the dick inside him is almost too much. Mickey adjusts his stroke so he’s not moving as far back, just hammering into Ian with short, hard thrusts. 

Ian makes a noise and his whole body tightens. Mickey groans and comes, his body stiffening, the muscles of his legs and ass clenching. He fucks his orgasm into Ian and then stills, dropping his head down. Ian’s shivering, his body covered in sweat. “O-okay?”

“No,” Ian says as he nods. “That...I...I can’t come again, but fuck, I want to.”

“I know the feeling.” Mickey leans in and presses a kiss to Ian’s shoulder blade. “Gonna pull out now. Might hurt.”

Ian nods and Mickey can feel him brace himself, but it doesn’t stop Ian from crying out softly when Mickey eases free. As soon as Mickey moves back, Ian slumps onto the bed, sprawled on his stomach in front of Mickey. Mickey laughs and leans in, biting Ian’s ass again. “Hey!”

“Mm. Complaining?” Mickey bites again before sucking and licking his way up Ian’s spine. Ian shivers and shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.” Mickey presses a kiss to the nape of Ian’s neck. “Remind me how good this was when I wake up and my ribs feel like they’ve exploded in the night, okay?”

“Remind you? You’re not going to remember?”

“Not if my ribs hurt enough.” Mickey lays out on the bed next to Ian. “Night.”

Ian hums softly and moves closer, draping his arm over Mickey’s stomach and nuzzling against his shoulder. “Night.”

**

Ian walks out of his last class and slings his messenger back over his head. He’s got a week off for spring break, and he plans on making the most of it by sleeping in except on Mickey’s day off when he intends to fuck Mickey senseless over and over and over again. He hasn’t let Mickey in on the plan, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be amenable to it.

“Ian!”

Ian frowns and turns, looking for whoever called his name. His eyes widen as he sees Mandy jogging across the lawn toward him, oblivious to the host of guys checking her out. “Hey. Hi. What brings you here?”

“Well, you told me where you go to school, and it’s lunch time. So I put two and two together and decided you wanted to take me out to lunch.”

“You did, huh?” Ian laughs. “It’s like you read my mind.”

“I know, right? Further proof that we were meant to be best friends.” She loops her arm with his and falls in step with him as Ian starts walking again. “So, where are we going?”

“Well, I’m actually meeting someone for lunch already.”

“Oh? Should my brother be jealous?”

“Well, I’m meeting _my_ brother, so Mickey’s completely safe.”

Mandy looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Is he as cute as you?”

“No.”

“I mean, not as godlike and gorgeous, but...would I kick him out of bed?”

“For his looks? No. For being a dick? Probably.”

Mandy thinks for a minute and then smiles. “But _for_ his dick?”

“No. No.” Ian points at her. “I am _not_ talking to you about my brothers dick. Not now. Not ever.”

“You talk to me about Mickey’s.”

“I do not!” Ian pushes her away and Mandy stumbles dramatically. 

“Okay, okay. You just imply how much he _likes_ dick.” Mandy laughs. “Which, trust me, might be worse in Mickey’s book.” She hooks her arm through his again. “So where are we meeting your brother for lunch?”

“There’s a diner about a half mile from here. I usually walk.”

“Because you’re a freak of nature. But okay.” She hugs his arm tight against her body and leans her head on him. “What’s his name?”

“Lip.”

“That is a weird ass name.”

“It’s short for Philip. But I couldn’t say it when I was a kid. So Lip. And it stuck.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Mandy’s. “And he’s not good with women. I mean, he’s good with them, but not in any kind of lasting sense, so you probably really don’t want to fall for him. Because I like you, and he tends to fuck people over.”

“You guys are close, huh?”

Ian laughs. “We are, actually. He was the first person I ever told that I was gay, though that was more because he found my porn stash and confronted me. It was a relief kind of. To not have to keep it a secret from him, since we’re only a year apart, so we’ve always been close, you know?”

“Must be strange. I was never close with Mickey until after my dad found out about him. I didn’t know before then, but I guess Mickey figured I was someone safe? I mean, I didn’t give a fuck who he fucked. And our brothers weren’t about to be understanding. They were jealous Mickey got to bang his wife. Which, trust me, was a job he would have been happy to relinquish.” 

“My whole family is close. Kind of living in each others back pockets close. Lip, our two other brothers and I all shared a room for most of our lives.”

“Wow. I’d have killed every single one of my siblings if that was the case.”

Ian nods. “There was a lot of fighting.” He slows down as they near the diner. “So, anyway, um. Lip’s not...super keen on Mickey? Or, well, on me dating anyone, but Mickey and he had words at the dinner...”

“Oh, I know. Mickey actually told me what a douchebag he is. For what it’s worth, you totally don’t seem crazy to me.”

“Did he just tell you every-fucking-thing?”

Mandy shrugs. “Hey, if you’re going to be dating my brother, I have to know all the details. Not the sex details, but the other details. Because he’s the only family I have left.” Mandy says it lightly, but there’s something in her voice that makes it clear that she means every word. “You’re good for Mickey. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this...not grumpy.”

“High praise.”

Mandy giggles. “Dude, it really is. You have no idea.”

“Ian.”

Ian looks up and sees Lip, one hand raised in greeting, standing by the door. “Hey, Lip. This is Mandy. Friend of mine.”

“I didn’t know we were bringing friends.”

“I didn’t either. We ran into each other, and I owed her lunch, so I invited her along.”

Lip looks Mandy over, and Ian stiffens slightly. He can practically see Lip’s thoughts as his eyes move up and down. “Hi. I’m Lip.”

“Hi.” Mandy tilts her head, a small smile playing across her lips. “Wow. You really are a douche.” 

“Been talking me up, huh?” Lip holds the door open for Mandy, bowing slightly as she moves through the it. Lip raises an eyebrow at Ian and Ian shrugs. “Your boyfriend know you’re taking girls to lunch?”

“We’re having a sandwich, Lip. I’m not fucking her.” Ian slides into the booth next to Mandy, bumping into her so she moves over. 

“It’s true,” Mandy agrees. “He’s not fucking me. If he was fucking me, he’d be too busy to meet you for lunch.” She puts her elbows on the table and props her chin on her hands. “Also, you know, he’s gay. Makes it tough to fuck women.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“But why let facts get in the way of insulting me, right?” She sits back and opens the menu, focusing on that instead of Lip. Lip gives Ian a look, but Ian doesn’t do any more than shrug again. It’s actually kind of nice to see Lip getting as good as he’s giving. Ian’s pretty sure Milkovichs are good for his family in more ways than one.

Lip doesn’t bother looking at the menu, since he and Ian always order the same thing. One of these days Ian’s going to order something completely different, just to see the look on Lip’s face. The waitress comes up and they all order, and Lip actually waits until she brings back his coffee, Ian’s soda, and Mandy’s chocolate milkshake before starting their weekly conversation.

“How’s school?”

“Fine. Spring break.” Ian stirs his soda with his straw as Lip pours sugar into his coffee. “A whole week off.”

“Are you taking time off work too?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have plans?” Lip takes a sip and makes a face at his cup. “You don’t do well when you’re out of your routine.”

“I’ll still be working.” Ian tries to keep his voice even, reminding himself that Lip’s just worried about him. “And I still have my work out and stuff. It’s not like I’m going to suddenly turn into a couch potato.”

“Right. I know that. It was just...you tend to have a tough time in the spring.” 

Ian looks at Mandy out of the corner of his eye. She’s stabbing the whipped cream on her shake with her straw and then lifting it to her mouth. Her lips are in a thin line when she’s not sucking on the straw, and she’s very carefully not looking at either Ian or Lip. “I’m taking my meds. I’m doing fine on my meds.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

“Like you wouldn’t know.”

“Hey...”

“Okay.” Ian exhales carefully. “I know you’re just trying to make sure I’m okay. I do. And I appreciate it. I’m glad I have you looking out for me. But I’m not going to go off the deep end just because I’m out of school for a week. I’m not just going to forget to take my pills because I’m watching soap operas with my hand down my pants.”

“Which soap opera?”

Lip glares at Mandy. “You want to shut up?”

“Hmm.” Mandy tilts her head again, finger on her chin like she’s thinking. “No. You know he’s an adult, right? Like, I get that he’s your little brother, but he’s a full-grown man. How would you like it if he showed up at your place and did this kind of shit to you.”

“Mandy, it’s cool.”

“No. It’s really not, Ian. “

“It is. I mean, it’s not like he doesn’t have reason to be concerned. I went through this whole thing where I wasn’t taking my meds, and I was pretty fucked up.”

“When?”

“What?”

Mandy shrugs. “When did that happen?”

“I was seventeen? Almost eighteen.”

“And now you’re...?”

“Twenty-two.”

“So five years. And you’ve been doing well since then?”

“This is none of your business,” Lip states flatly.

“Ian’s my friend, so I’m making it my business. If I were Ian I’d stop taking the damn things just because _you_ drive me crazy. You know what the worst thing to do to an addict is? Keep questioning them when they’re trying to get clean. Asking them if they’re sure they’re okay, that they’re sober. Because all that does is tell them that you don’t really believe they’re doing it, that they can do it. Hell, you’re almost driving me to drink, and I’ve only heard this bullshit once.”

“Mandy...” 

“He treats you like a child, Ian. Treats you like you’re stupid. You’re not either of those things.” Mandy leans back in the seat and shakes her head. “I know it’s none of my business, but I can tell you this much. If my brother ever talked to me the way yours is talking to you, I’d kick him in the fucking balls far enough back into his body that he’d be tasting them with his Cheerios.”

“Good for you and your brother,” Lip sneers.

“Fuck, Mickey was so right about you.”

“Micky.” Lip’s sneer gets even more vicious. “He’s your brother?”

“Yeah.” Mandy shoves at Ian and he gets out of the booth so she can get out. “Hey, can I get my part of the order to go?” She asks the waitress and then turns around to look at Lip. “And before you even think about saying anything, I want you to consider this. If I’m willing to do _that_ to my brother, what do you think I’d do to someone I don’t like?”

Ian sits back down as Mandy walks up to the cashier and pays for her lunch, taking the bag with her. The bell jingles on her way out the door and Ian sighs. Lip shakes his head. “Wow. You’ve picked a great family to get mixed up with.”

“I’m sure ours is just as bad to outsiders.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s still around when things to go hell for you.” Lip exhales and takes another drink of his coffee. “I only want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not like she said. It’s not that I don’t trust you, believe you.”

“I know.” Ian sighs and then smiles at the waitress as she brings them their order. “You’re just looking out for me.”

“I am.”

Ian nods and bites into a french fry. “Thanks, Lip.”

**

“He’s a complete and utter dick.”

“I know.”

“I mean, insulting and holier-than-thou and just...a fucking _asshole_.” 

Mickey nods and shifts the phone to his other ear. “I know, Mandy.”

“How did you not punch him?”

“Ian.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah. That’s a good reason.” Mandy sighs. “So you guys are dating, right? Like, for real? Movies. Dinner. Stuff other than fucking?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, but yeah. I mean, I guess. He comes over and does his homework while I read and shit.”

“Oh my god, you are so domesticated. He’s tamed the wild Mickey.”

“Fuck off.” He looks at himself in the mirror, brushing his hair back with his fingers. 

“Are you going to spend his whole spring break fucking? Because I should know if I shouldn’t call. I don’t want to interrupt some serious dick-sucking time or anything. Because it’s really imperative for my sanity that you never answer the phone while you’re taking it up the ass.”

“We’re not having this conversation, Mandy.” Mickey makes a face at himself. “I have to go. I have a thing tonight.”

“A thing? You don’t have things. What thing do you have? It’s not your night off.”

“It’s just a thing. I’m allowed to have take a night off. Vacation days and all that shit.”

Mandy is quiet for a long time. “Are you okay, Mick?”

“What? Yeah. Why’d you ask that?”

“You’re taking time off work. You’re being vague. Are you dying? I’m going to kick your fucking ass if you’re dying.”

“Dying? Really? That’s what you immediately go to?” Mickey scoffs. “I gotta go.”

“You’d tell me if you were dying, right?”

“Christ, Mandy. Yes. I promise to fucking tell you if I’m dying. But I’m not. I am, however, going to be late, so I’ll talk to you later. And whatever you do, don’t indulge in your fucking destructive streak and try to find out Gallagher’s brother’s phone number or address. You don’t need that shit.”

“Why would I do that? He’s a jerk.”

“Because he’s a jerk. And that’s your thing for some reason. Goodnight.”

“Night.” She hangs up, and Mickey’s relatively sure that he needs to tell Ian to not give Mandy access to Lip’s information. Dealing with the way he treats Ian is bad enough. If Mandy gets mixed up in there, Mickey’s likely to commit homicide.

He glances at himself one last time – black jeans, gray shirt – and makes another face. He thinks he looks okay, but he’s rarely the best judge. He flips himself off and grabs his jacket, since spring in Chicago could be any kind of weather. He catches the El and fidgets as he gets closer to Boys’ Town. This is completely not Mickey’s scene and never has been. He’s been in his share of clubs, but the sheer openness of it all makes him nervous. Too many years of hiding, too many years of looking over his shoulder. The haunting fear in the back of his head that somehow this is all a dream, and he’s going to wake up to his father looming over him, gun in hand, telling Mickey to fuck his wife like a fucking man.

Mickey shivers, though there’s hardly any breeze. He rolls his eyes at the names of the clubs. Subtlety is obviously in short supply. But then, he’s in Boys’ Town. Not like there’s anything subtle about that. You don’t stumble in here and accidentally think you’ve found the Bible belt. Mickey passes a bear bar, and gets a few catcalls that he ignores. He gets propositioned by a guy on the street as well, offering him a good deal for a piece of ass. Mickey shakes his head and keeps walking, finally stopping outside the Fairy Tail. 

Jesus.

He had really hoped Ian was kidding about the name. But no. He pays his cover and goes inside, immediately overwhelmed by the pounding music and flashing lights. It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. He walks to the bar and glances around as he goes, not deliberately looking for Ian, but not _not_ looking for him either. There are plenty of guys in gold booty shorts up on platforms dancing. 

Dancing being, of course, a generous term for the suggesting thrusting and rubbing that’s going on. He sees multiple guys shoving money down the tight shorts, but no flash of red reflecting in the pulsing blue, green, and orange of the strobes. He gets an extremely overpriced drink and keeps walking, watching. He moves around the club like a bouncer, looking for trouble spots. Seeing guys come out of bathrooms and backrooms, wiping their mouths, their noses. 

“Twenty-five bucks buys you a dance.”

Mickey turns around, eyebrow up. “Yeah, sorry. Not my type.”

The guy huffs a laugh. “You’re in a gay club. I’ve got a dick. Not sure how much more your type I can be.”

“I’m looking for a particular dick.” Mickey drops his eyes to the tight gold shorts. “You’re not it. Sorry.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nope. Not that either.” Mickey shrugs. “I’m sure you can find someone else more than willing.” He starts walking again. He knows Ian’s here somewhere, either that or he was shitting Mickey about working, and that doesn’t seem like Ian. Mickey doesn’t know him all that well, but he knows enough. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder that moves to caress the back of his neck. “Twenty-five bucks buys you a dance.”

Mickey fights his grin and turns around. Ian’s dressed in a sparkly black shirt and black shorts that _might_ be tighter than the gold ones. It certainly makes it clear that this is definitely the dick he was looking for. “What does fifty bucks get me?”

A grin flickers at the corner of Ian’s mouth. “Two dances.”

“How much for the whole night?”

“Not sure what kind of guy you think I am.”

Mickey reaches out and traces the low collar of Ian’s tank top. “I know what kind of guy you are, Gallagher.” Mickey reaches in his pocket and pulls out a fifty, sliding it under the waistband of Ian’s shorts. Ian leads him to a large chair and pushes Mickey into it. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am on a chair a bunch of guys have probably jizzed on.”

“It’s Naugahyde. We wipe that shit down.” Ian straddles Mickey’s lap and starts moving slowly, trailing his fingers down Mickey’s shoulders, his arms. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“New in town.” 

Ian leans in and breathes against Mickey’s ear. “Enjoying the sights?”

“More than you know.”

Ian grinds down against Mickey’s hard dick. “Think I might know.” 

Mickey traces his fingertips along the inside of Ian’s thighs. He runs them along the hem of his shorts, feeling Ian react. “You get hard for all your dances?”

“Mmm. Only the special ones.”

Mickey bites his lips and closes his eyes as Ian arches his back, chest brushing against Mickey’s. “L-lots of special ones?”

Ian pulls back and looks at Mickey with hooded eyes. Even half-hidden, Mickey can see how wide Ian’s pupils are. He leans back in and presses hard against Mickey, knees digging into his thighs. “One so far.”

Mickey’s hands span Ian’s thighs, his thumbs sliding under the fabric of his shorts, brushing Ian’s balls. Ian leans in close, his lips parted and eyes completely closed. “God, Ian. Want you to fuck me.”

“Have to work a third job if you want to afford a private room.” Ian nuzzles Mickey’s throat, sucking lightly, nipping at the skin. “And that means I don’t get to see you enough. So you’ll just have to wait until I get home.”

Mickey moves his hands, grabbing Ian’s hips so he can thrust up against him, bracing his feet on the floor for leverage. “Might be worth it.”

“Be even more worth it if you wait.” The song ends and fades into something else and Ian eases away from him.

“Hey. I paid for two dances.” Mickey’s dick aches, too confined in his jeans. His eyes drop down to Ian’s hard-on, frustratingly visible in his shorts. 

“I’m gonna go jerk off so I can work the rest of the night.” Ian places his hands on the arms of the chair and leans in, mouth a breath away from Mickey’s, whispering softly. “Second dance tonight in private.”

“I have to pay for those now?”

“I’ll give you the back room version for the discounted price.”

“Thought the first taste was supposed to be free.”

Ian kisses him then, slow and hot and over before Mickey’s even close to ready for it to be. “Don’t touch yourself until I tell you you can. Later tonight.” Ian kisses him again, sucking on Mickey’s tongue and biting his lower lip hard before he pulls away. “Much, much later.” 

He moves away from Mickey, and Mickey groans roughly. He needs to get out of this club and take a cold shower, because he’s pretty sure Ian will know if he doesn’t do as he’s told, and Mickey very, very much wants Ian to do what he promised. 

**

Jerking off in the staff bathroom isn’t what Ian wants. He wants to go out into the main room and sink down to his knees to suck Mickey’s dick. Much more satisfying, and the thought of spending the rest of his shift tasting Mickey on his tongue is what sends Ian over the edge.

Mickey’s gone when Ian comes back out, and Ian grins to himself, wondering what Mickey intends to do to get rid of his own hard-on. From the look on Mickey’s face, Ian knows he won’t be jerking himself off. Ian tries not to think about Mickey prepping himself and the pool of pre-come gathering in the slit of Mickey’s dick, because he doesn’t want to have to jack off a second time. 

It takes forever for three to come, but finally Ian’s off work. He changes his clothes as quickly as possible, exchanging the barest goodbyes with his coworkers. The train ride is interminable and it seems like it’s been an eternity by the time he knocks on Mickey’s door. 

It opens almost immediately and Ian groans roughly. Mickey’s wearing a fucking cock ring and nothing fucking else. “Jesus Christ.”

“You gonna stand in the door all night?”

Ian surges inside and slams the door closed, advancing on Mickey. Mickey walks backward toward the bedroom, grinning like he’s won the fucking lottery. Ian’s pretty sure _he’s_ the one who’s won because Mickey looks so fucking hot. His dick is red and flushed and thick, a stark contrast to his pale skin and the black cock ring. Mickey’s legs hit the mattress and he stops. Ian stops a few steps away from him and narrows his eyes. Mickey’s fucking smug, and Ian drops to his knees, determined to wipe the look off his face.

He swallows Mickey down, palming Mickey’s balls with his hand. Mickey groans, and Ian can only imagine how sensitive he must be, how much his cock aches. He sucks harder, the sounds Mickey’s making washing over him. He squeezes Mickey’s balls then slides his hand back, fingers pressing against Mickey’s hole.

The slick rim and the hard plug.

Ian shudders and moans around Mickey’s dick, the sound and feel of it making Mickey shudder too. “F-fuck, Ian. H-had to put the ring on so I could ge-get ready for you. W-wasn’t gonna make it o-oth-otherwise.”

Ian moans again and he sees Mickey’s head fall back as Ian grabs the plug and slowly moves it, fucking Mickey with it as he sucks harder, takes Mickey deeper. Mickey fists his hands in Ian’s hair, holding him still as he starts fucking Ian’s mouth. Ian arches into the touch and Mickey tightens his grip. He starts whimpering before long, and Ian knows Mickey’s got to be in some measure of pain. He pulls off with a wet pop, and looks at Mickey’s dick. It’s wet and almost purple, and it takes everything Ian has not to suck it down again.

“O-on the bed.” Ian’s voice is shredded, and Mickey’s knees tremble as he turns, getting on his hands and knees. “No. On your back.”

“I-Ian, that’s gonna fucking _hurt_.”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hip and pushes, tumbling him onto the mattress. “Should have thought about that before you got all creative.” He slides his hand between Mickey’s legs and eases the plug out of him. Mickey mouth opens, but he doesn’t make a sound, though his body jerks roughly and tells Ian everything he needs to know.

Ian doesn’t even bother to strip. He just shoves his jeans down to his thighs and pushes Mickey’s legs up, fitting himself between them and inside him. Mickey gasps as Ian buries himself deep, his eyes going wide as he meets Ian’s. Ian wonders if he should pull out, apologize, find a condom, but then Mickey’s wrapping his legs around Ian’s back, heels digging into his ass, and Ian thrusts, has to thrust, can’t help himself.

He can feel Mickey’s dick against his stomach, so hard and so hot, and Ian presses closer, fucking Mickey in slow, long thrusts. Mickey’s mewling softly, sounds falling out of his mouth like they’re against his will. Ian goes down on his elbows, framing Mickey’s head with his hands, kissing him roughly. Mickey’s dick is trapped between them, and when he pulls back, Ian can see tears forming in the corners of Mickey’s eyes, spiking his lashes. It seems to make Mickey’s eyes bluer, brighter. Ian kisses him again, the wet slide of Mickey’s tongue like the wet slide of his slicked up asshole, hungrily taking everything Ian is giving him.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Ian pants, hips speeding up, desperate to be deeper. Mickey’s legs keep him from pulling out too far and Ian loves the hard press of his heels, of his thighs around him, against him. “Fuck, Mick. Need you. Need you.” He reaches between them, kissing Mickey again as he rests all his weight on one arm. He tugs at the cock ring and Mickey cries out, tears leaking down his face. “Need you to come for me. Please. God, please.”

Ian finally gets the ring over the head of Mickey’s cock and he doesn’t even have a chance to move his hand out of the way before Mickey’s come splatters hotly between them. Mickey’s groan is lost in Ian’s kiss, and it tastes so good. Ian thrusts forward, arching his back to drive him even deeper as he comes, Mickey licking Ian’s moan from his mouth.

Ian slumps down, burying his face against Mickey’s throat, panting roughly. Mickey runs his fingers through the sweat pooled in the small of Ian’s back and turns his head to press a kiss to Ian’s temple. “Mmm,” Ian hums.

“So...” Mickey’s breathless, his voice rough. “Does this mean we’re officially dating Definitely boyfriends?”

Ian laughs, dissolving into giggles that seem completely inappropriate to the situation. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I think it might.”


End file.
